


let's just breathe for a little while

by AppleJuiz



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post 1x07, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6445741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleJuiz/pseuds/AppleJuiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't want to talk," he announced, because he really doesn't. But if there was someone he would want to talk to about... everything, it would have been Sara. He feels she would understand to some extent, in ways no one else on this ship really could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's just breathe for a little while

**Author's Note:**

> Just a drabble I started after 1x07 and finally got around to finishing. Thank you spring break.

He's not used to having a room to himself. Not on this ship for one but also not in general. Since he was a child he'd been sharing a room with Lisa, anytime he was in jail he shared a cell with Mick or a stranger, anytime he was out of jail he liked being near his team, his sister, his partner, and on this ship he'd spent every night listening to his best friends snores, content.

He's not used to silence at night, and with no sounds to distract him, all he can think about is Mick and what he's done. He didn't want to be alone, trapped only with his own thoughts and regrets, but he also didn't want to look at the rest of the team, see them pity him or judge him. He wanted to fall asleep but the silence was unnerving.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the covers of his bed were thrown back. He hadn't even heard the door open or close. Hell, he's pretty sure he locked the door.

"Shove over," a gruff voice, Sara, demanded, as she slipped under the covers.

"And what do you think you're doing, Canary?" He grunted, but scoot over to make room.

"I'm getting some sleep," she announced, pulling the covers up over her shoulders and snuggling into the mattress.

"Don't you have you're own room for that?"

"Yes, but there were a few too many people. Three's a crowd and all that."

"Raymond?"

"Who would have thought, right?" Sara agreed, sighing.

"I don't want to talk," he announced, because he really doesn't. But if there was someone he would want to talk to about... everything, it would have been Sara. He feels she would understand to some extent, in ways no one else on this ship really could.

"Perfect, I just want to sleep," she assured him, and snuggled up against his side, dragging his arm around her shoulders, almost like how they had curled up on the floor of the breach site just hours ago.

"Hey, assassin," he muttered. "Do you think I made the right choice?"

"Not sure what my opinion counts for anything," she replied.

"It counts for something in my book."

"No, it's not for me to judge. Do you think you made the right choice?"

"I... I don't know."

"Well, then I can't tell you if it was right or not," she said.

"I wish..." He started. "Never mind. I'll let you sleep."

"If you want to talk, I've been told I'm good at listening," she offered, shifting up to rest her head on her hand.

"No, I don't want to talk."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I don't need to talk."

"Alright," she sighed, setting back down. "If you change your mind."

He nodded, but stayed silent. The silence from before was replaced by the sound of Sara's breathing, and he felt the noise in his head quiet down. He hadn't expected to fall asleep tonight, after everything, but with the rise and fall of Sara's chest, steady and soft, tension seeped out of his shoulders.

He waited for Sara's breathing to even out before he wrapped his other arm around her and relaxed. It was nice not being alone. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He used to play this game with Lisa when they were young; a magic trick where if you closed your eyes and didn't move for a while, you would wake up with a fresh start, in a brand new day that would be better. They'd outgrown the game before long, but it could hurt.

~

He woke up first. Not what he expected. He thought for sure, the assassin would have been up at the ass crack of dawn to do some crazy workout, but she was still tucked into his side, snoring softly, face peaceful and innocent in the morning light. It wasn't really morning light, just a tone adjustment to the lights that Gideon was programmed to do automatically, to keep their biological clocks in order. Despite being fake it still felt real and calm, like mornings back in Central City with his sister and... Mick. His chest hurt.

He sighed, ran his hand up and down Sara's back lightly.

"I wish someone would tell me I'm doing the right thing," he breathed to her, even though she couldn't listen. "I don't trust anyone here to tell me the truth though. I don't know who I am anymore, and I'm worried that maybe Mick was right. I'm deluding myself, thinking I can be a hero or something like that."

Sara didn't respond, just kept breathing lightly against his collar, twitching minutely in her sleep. He hadn't wanted to her to hear though, except that he did, but he couldn't.

He sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

"I trust you though," he told her. "And I don't usually-"

She moaned quietly, shifting again. He smoothed a hand down the back of her pajama shirt.

"Yeah, you're right, too much for the first thing in the morning," he sighed. "I guess I just-"

He wasn't entirely sure how he was planning to finish that sentence, and he never got the chance to. One second Sara was resting peacefully against his side, the next she was flailing, tangled in bedsheets, arms and legs striking out in all directions, fighting off phantom assailants.

"No. Won't-," she grunted.

"Sara!" He called as she landing a punch to the chest that knocked the air out of him. "Sara!" He tried again, reaching out, trying to grab hold her wrists, to hold her in place before she hurt herself.

Her eyes shot open with a gasp, legs kicking out one more time before freezing in place. Hand wrapped around her wrists, he sighed in relief, dreading the bruise on his chest he would certainly have later.

She stared at him, breathing heavy, eyes unseeing until suddenly they were, looking guilty and embarrassed.

"Sorry," she mumbled gruffly, faux nonchalantly. "I'll just-" She moved as if to get out of bed, hands shaking, but he didn't feel like beating around the bush. He shook his head and tugged her in close, releasing her wrists and wrapping his arms around her waist.

She was still trembling, shaken by whatever demons she must have seen in her dream. He ran his hand up and down her side, lightly, slowly, gently.

"Don't be sorry," he assured her, sweeping some of her hair back and out of the way. "You alright, birdie?"

"'M fine," she said, but settled against his chest, fisting her hands in his shirt. "I should've said something about that, sorry. I guess I thought it wouldn't be as bad."

"Hey, we're lucky I was too exhausted last night to do anything but sleep."

"I dunno, I think I can take half-asleep you in a fight."

"I don't fight," he confessed. "I get... loud. Mick could sleep through an earthquake so... Well, it worked out well enough."

Sara nodded, face hidden against his shoulder.

"Ya know, that offer to talk goes both ways," he added. "Can't say I'm the best listener, though."

"I don't want to talk," she announces. "It's not really my thing."

"Yeah, not mine either," he agrees, feeling oddly relieved. There was no pressure to let things out of his chest that he didn't want to. He could just be here, distracted, not thinking about things.

"We could do things other than talking," Sara suggests.

He raises an eyebrow.  
"Like..."

"Uh... Cards," she suggests. "There's nothing more distracting and satisfying than completely obliterating someone at poker."

"Poker, huh? Not one of your weird rigged Russian card games?"

"Just because you suck at them, doesn't mean they're rigged," she taunts, rolling out of bed.

"Alright, poker, then," he agrees, trying to get up as gracefully as she had and failing.

When he gets to his feet she's in front of him, hand on his waist, lips brushing across his cheek.

"We're not talking about it," she says. "But it's going to get better. You and me, we're pretty similar. We're built to outlast things like this. And it stings right now, but you'll be okay. And I'm here if you need me, okay?"

His chest still aches and he knows that if he turns a little to the left he'll be able to see Mick's bed, still unmade from yesterday morning, and he's not sure if he can face that sight without falling apart a little, but he says, "Okay."

And Sara smiles.

It feels like a step in the right direction.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway I hope you liked it.
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](applejuiz.tumblr.com) as well for more superhero angst and send me prompts or something.


End file.
